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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25036183">if all else fails, go feral</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoheadedcalf/pseuds/twoheadedcalf'>twoheadedcalf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>widofjord week 2020. [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Combat Training, Getting Together, Hand to Hand Combat Training, Love Confessions, M/M, Near Death, tm9 are pretty much just bg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:00:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25036183</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoheadedcalf/pseuds/twoheadedcalf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’d started off simple, which he should have recognized as a bad omen from the start. Just as few cultists with sharp knives and nasty but manageable magic. It’d been fine until a tear opened up above them and a red demon creature crawled out of it and started hauling off heavy hits.</p><p>But they were almost done now, Fjord knew. The thing was looking rough, rotten meat sloughing off its bones, one of its eyes blinded. Another good round and it would be gone.</p><p>That’s when he heard it:</p><p>“Jester,” in a voice so strangled that it took him a moment to recognize as Caleb’s.</p><p>And Jester’s response, a desperate “Caleb!”.</p><p>*</p><p>day two of widofjord week 2020: combat.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fjord/Caleb Widogast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>widofjord week 2020. [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811557</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>135</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>if all else fails, go feral</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for the 'combat' prompt of widofjord week 2020!! check them out @widofjordweek on twitter!! hope u guys enjoy it!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fights are messy things, that, Fjord has always known. The few scrapes he got into as a teen were never as clean as the street playwrights from Port Damali would like to make one believe — always too many limbs involved, punches landing too off center, and blood always making things too slippery. Combat, though, — proper combat — is another beast entirely.</p><p>Fjord always tries to keep track of every member of The Mighty Nein whenever they face another battle but that’s kind of hard to do, you know, considering their enemies.</p><p>Essik had sent them off to a far away corner of Xhorhas on the trail of another set of cultists that the local Aurora Watch couldn’t deal with. Considering, well, <em> everything </em>about Essik at this point, there’d been some hesitance to accept the task. There was no way to work around it with Caleb and Jester insisting on it, though, especially with Yasha’s and Caduceus’ support.</p><p>At least Jigow was a coastal city. It’d been a while since he last ate seafood. The rain still kept catching him off guard, though. He’d slipped on fresh mud twice on the way to the beachside grotto they currently found themselves in and the dirt still on his face didn’t let him see the giant demon monster thing in front of them properly.</p><p>It’d started off simple, which he should have recognized as a bad omen from the start. Just as few cultists with sharp knives and nasty but manageable magic. It’d been fine until a tear opened up above them and a red demon creature crawled out of it and started hauling off heavy hits.</p><p>But they were almost done now, Fjord knew. The thing was looking rough, rotten meat sloughing off its bones, one of its eyes blinded. Another good round and it would be gone.</p><p>That’s when he heard it:</p><p>“Jester,” in a voice so strangled that it took him a moment to recognize as Caleb’s.</p><p>And Jester’s response, a desperate “Caleb!”.</p><p>He hadn’t kept track of where they were, if they were close enough to help each other, couldn’t know what the screams meant. But they were so close now, Fjord couldn’t turn his back. The monster needed to get killed. After that, everything would be easier to deal with. </p><p>He landed a sword strike. Yasha, on the other side of the thing, landed one too, and the beast finally slumped.</p><p>Fjord turned around, searching for Caleb with his eyes. He didn’t find him. He felt panic start to set in. Instead, he was met with Jester attacking a cloaked hobglobin with her sickle and a heap not five feet away that looked suspiciously humanoid.</p><p>He ran, not sure if the red he saw on the ground was Caleb’s firelight hair or his blood. </p><p>Fjord took a swipe at the hobglobin before kneeling by Caleb’s side. His hair had dipped into the pool of blood spreading beneath him. There were deep cuts in his ribcage and neck. He choked, trying to say Fjord’s name.</p><p>That finally set him into action. Resting his hands on Caleb’s wounds, gently, although even that made man flinch, Fjord tried to heal him to no avail. There was no healing juice left and he knew it.</p><p>All that he could hear was Caleb’s breathing, wet and shorter by the second, and his own ragged panting. Distantly, Fjord realized he was tearing up.</p><p>He looked up, saw Jester, close but busy, and Caduceus, too far away, not fast enough. Oh, dear Wildmother—</p><p>A hand, warm, wet, weak, wrapped around his. He looked down and a tear spilled. Caleb guided a hand up to his chest, leaving his rib wound unprotected, Fjord’s hand over his heart. What was this? A goodbye? No, he couldn’t take it, he <em>wouldn’t— </em></p><p>Caleb pressed his hand down harder. Hard enough for Fjord to feel a shape under his palm. A vial. A potion. A healing potion!</p><p>He scrambled to get it out of Caleb’s pocket and tried to get Caleb to drink it as carefully as he could.</p><p>He watched the cut in his throat knit itself together. The pool of blood stopped spreading. They were both breathing harshly, in relief now. Fjord couldn’t stop staring at the way the blood seeped into Caleb’s new fancy clothes.</p><p>There was a heavy thump. Jester was done with the cultist. Fjord didn’t look.</p><hr/><p>Fjord has never been inside Caleb’s room before. He’s pretty sure no one has, except maybe Essik. Which… He doesn’t want to think about that. His routine has been pretty much restricted to a bedroom-garden-training room trifecta ever since they settled in.</p><p>The study has evolved since he last saw it — before it was a proper study. The shelves have filled out, there’s a long dark purple-wood table tucked into one corner and an old couch a few feet away from that. Veth’s lab tools are on the opposite side of the room. Fjord is pretty sure they’ve done nothing but gather dust since they were first bought.</p><p>It looks like a proper private library. That’s what it became while he wasn’t looking. Guilt seeds at Fjord. He knocks on the door to Caleb’s room.</p><p>No response.</p><p>He knocks again, a little more confident this time, and quietly calls out Caleb’s name.</p><p>No response.</p><p>He waits a few moments before steeling himself and deciding to pull a Beau.</p><p>Fjord opens the door as noisily as he can.</p><p>The first thing he notices is there aren’t any windows. There’s no natural light in Rosohna but the streetlight manages to make up for it most of the time. Caleb’s room is completely dark, and stuffy, like someone has been living in it without airing it out.</p><p>The second thing Fjord notices is that it’s small. A small rectangle that fits Caleb’s sorry excuse of a bed, his chest of clothes, and a corner table littered with papers. Something inside Fjord’s chest clenches.</p><p>Caleb managed to fight his nest of blankets and sit up while Fjord was taking the room in. There are sleep lines on his face and his hair is all mussed up. His sleep clothes are twisted in such a way that allows Fjord to see his naked shoulder. Caleb looks <em>soft. </em>Fjord fights the urge to look away in embarrassment.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” He sounds barely alert.</p><p>“Nothing’s wrong.”</p><p>“Then why do you have that look on your face?”</p><p>“It’s dark, how can you <em> see </em> my face?”</p><p>“Light from the study,” Caleb says but waves his hand and summons soft silvery magical lights anyway. “Why do you have that look on your face?”</p><p>“What look?”</p><p>“Like you’re suffering for something.”</p><p>Fjord fights not to let his face twist into something vulnerable that will make it obvious he’s suffering for Caleb, dismayed at the state of his room.</p><p>“Well, I’m not.” Fjord says, and rushes headfirst into what he really came here for. “Get up.”</p><p>Caleb sighs and throws his legs over the side of the bed. “What happened?”</p><p>“Nothing happened. I’m training you.”</p><p>“I’m sorry?”</p><p>Fjord doesn’t let himself be deterred by the disbelief in Caleb’s voice.</p><hr/><p>“You want me to do what?”</p><p>Caleb doesn’t own training clothes because of course he doesn’t, why the hell would he, fuck Fjord’s life anyway. He doesn’t really feel up to putting himself through the embarrassment of asking Beau for some so here they are. With Caleb in linen pants and a sleep shirt that’s tied up at the end so it doesn’t get in the way.</p><p>A sliver of soft skin shows everytime Caleb stretches. Fjord has to keep moving his eyes away from the exposed spot.</p><p>“Attack me. C’mon. I’ve seen you do it before.” At times of extreme duress that he’d rather forget, yes, but still.</p><p>Caleb has a doubtful expression on his face. “With my fists?”</p><p>Fjord snorts. “Yeah, what else?” Caleb rolls his eyes and stays in place. “Come on... Wouldn't you rather get out of bed early for a reason?”</p><p>Caleb sighs but something in his stance shifts. He’s <em>calculating</em>. Great. He’s bought in. Fjord sets his feet.</p><p>Caleb rushes at him and just barely ducks under the hand Fjord raises to stop him. He stumbles, letting out a soft <em> ‘oof’ </em>when Caleb’s head hits his chest, but doesn’t fall.</p><p>Not for lack of trying, though. He can feel Caleb trying to drag him down with him but he’s too light for that to work.</p><p>It doesn’t really matter because moments later, before Fjord manages to pry Caleb off him, the man slides through the space between his legs, gets up, and pushes him <em>hard </em>towards the ground.</p><p>Again, Fjord doesn’t fall, just rights himself and hears Caleb make an aggravated noise behind him. He doesn’t even manage to turn before Caleb launches himself on his back, trying to take him down again.</p><p>It doesn’t work. They just stay glued while Fjord tried to snatch him off his back, grumbling, “Jeez, you’re like a nasty— little fucking— gremlin, you sh—”</p><p>He stumbles backwards and lets himself fall as a last resort, trying to make it as easy on Caleb as possible.</p><p>The man still lets out a little ‘<em> oof </em>’ and a gasp when they hit the ground. Fjord immediately rolls off him and sits up by his side.</p><p>Caleb is panting and there’s a rose gold flush spreading over his cheeks but he seems fine. With the exception of a few flyaways, his copper hair is still secured in the tight ponytail he pulled it up in before they began.</p><p>“Great attempt but what about <em>using your fists</em>, Caleb?”</p><p>“You didn’t say that was a <em>requirement</em>.”</p><p>“It was <em>implied</em>.”</p><p>Caleb makes a doubtful noise.</p><hr/><p>“One would think you’d be getting better at this point.”</p><p>Fjord looks down at Caleb on the floor and extends a hand towards him.</p><p>They’d been at it for a couple of days now, every morning despite Caleb’s complaints about how early it was. Fjord had forbidden any other feral attempts at taking him down like the one from the first day and they’d focused on hand to hand combat since.</p><p>Caleb was quite shit at it, Fjord had to admit.</p><p>Caleb doesn’t take his hand and rolls around on the floor instead. “I can’t grow more muscles <em>in a week. </em>”</p><p>Fjord turns away and picks up a washcloth to clean his face. “Sure you can. Yasha did. <em> I </em> did.”</p><p>"<em>I’m not you</em>. Or Yasha.” There’s a pause as Fjord wipes the sweat off. “Why are you doing this anyway?” There’s another pause, a little more unsettling this time. “Is this about Jigow?”</p><p>Of course it is. But Fjord doubts Caleb will respond positively to him admitting that. So he throws the washcloth at his face instead, smiles when it actually hits the target for once and nudges Caleb’s legs to make him get up as he splutters.</p><hr/><p>“It’s like you’re not even trying!”</p><p>“Well, I am. There’s nothing I can do about being weak.”</p><p>“Just because you’re weak <em>now </em> doesn’t mean you have to <em> stay </em>weak.” Caleb makes a series of noises. Fjord ignores him. “You were better than this <em>when we first started</em>!”</p><p>Caleb doesn’t respond.</p><p>They’d been doing this every morning for just over a week now, and over the last few spars, Caleb had taken to going limp and soft in Fjord’s grasp every time he went down. It’d made him blush the first few times but now it was just annoying.</p><p>He heaves himself up. Looks down at Caleb. He’d given up on tying his hair up after it fell out of its ponytail mid scramble multiple times during the first couple of days. There’s a halo of candlelight hair around his head. Fjord swallows and resolutely does not look at the sliver of skin that the rumpled sleep shirt lets him see.</p><p>“Get up.”</p><p>Caleb does. Fjord sweeps his legs out from under him.</p><p>“<em>Arschloch.</em>”</p><p>Fjord snorts. “Again.”</p><p>Caleb shuffles a few feet back before standing up this time. He stares at him for a long moment. Fjord isn’t sure what the hell the man finds that makes him rush at him full force.</p><p>Fjord manages to brush away the fist traveling in the direction of his solar plexus and catch the one going for his throat. His fingers wrap around Caleb’s wrist and that whole arm goes limp.</p><p>Another punch, this one aimed towards his ribcage, sloppier. Fjord just barely manages to catch that one before Caleb snaps his head forward, glancing at his chin.</p><p>“Fuck!” He calls out, taking around the blood in his mouth and his throbbing tongue. He wraps his leg around Caleb’s and goes down with him.</p><p>He settles his weight over Caleb’s hips, undoubtedly heavier than the man under him, and pin his wrists above his head. Caleb doesn’t even fight it.</p><p>There’s just something with him, from the rose golden flush spreading over his face that Fjord knows isn’t from exertion, to the weird glint in his eyes, to the way his gaze doesn’t quite settle on any spot of Fjord’s face to focus in.</p><p>Fjord doesn’t let that deter him.</p><p>“Is this your strategy then? Just let it happen and hope for the best?” Caleb doesn’t respond. Fjord jostles his wrists. “Come on!”</p><p>“I have my ways.”</p><p>Fjord doesn’t bother trying to hide his eye roll. “That’s all you’ll do then? Wait for one of us to help you?” Fjord doesn’t wait for him to get a witty remark in. “What if you were in Rexxentrum?”</p><p>“What?” The glint in his eyes disappears, brows slowly furrowing.</p><p>“Yeah. No spells and someone comes at you with their fists. With a knife. What then?” <em> What was his name again</em>— “Eodwulf.”</p><p>Caleb goes carefully still.</p><p>“He’s a big guy, right? About my size? What then? He doesn’t need magic to get you, just a dark corner and his fists, what th—”</p><p>“Let me go.” Caleb’s voice is quiet but it’s impossible not to hear it from so close.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Let me go, Fjord.” There’s an edge of danger in his voice. Fjord suddenly remembers that Caleb does, in fact, have his spells at the moment. “Right now.”</p><p>Fjord lets go. Caleb squirms out from under him and is out of the room before he can even blink.</p><hr/><p>“Wake up.”</p><p>Fjord didn’t get up early that morning, not to run with Beau, not to “train” — if that could even be called training; Wildmother, he’s such an idiot, a true and tried douchebag — with Caleb.</p><p>He still hasn’t gotten rid of the shutters in his room, mostly out of paranoia. Caleb is easily recognizable to him though, even in the dark.</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“Wake up. Get out of bed and get dressed. Now.”</p><p>Caleb is back in his training clothes. His hair is in such a tight ponytail that it <em>looks </em>like it hurts. His face is very serious.</p><p>Fjord gets up.</p><hr/><p>Caleb looks more awake than fjord has ever seen him this early in the morning. There are no sleep lines, no flyways framing his face, and his clothes aren’t rumpled. Fjord could have easily believed he didn’t sleep but the maniac glint born from exhaustion isn’t there.</p><p>Caleb looks well-adjusted. It's weird. He tries not to feel too off-kilter over it.</p><p>Before he can properly get past the strangeness, Caleb throws a stick at him.</p><p>“What’s this?”</p><p>“A staff, have you never seen one before?”</p><p>Fjord knows it isn’t <em>just </em>a staff. It’s shorter than the one he’s seen Beau use, and lighter too, a lot easier to maneuver. “And what am I supposed to do with it?”</p><p>“Fight me.”</p><p>“What?” Fjord looks up. Caleb has taken up stance a few feet away from him, his feet set, his gaze focused.</p><p>“Fight me.” He looks like he isn’t putting up with arguments any time soon. Fjord sighs and resigns himself to this. </p><p>He holds the staff in the same way he holds the sword. The effect gets lost somewhere in translation, considering the size difference between the two. He lunges at Caleb anyway.</p><p>The hit doesn’t land. Instead, Caleb blocks it and their staffs slide together until his hand twists awkwardly and he’s forced to let go.</p><p>Caleb doesn’t stop. A light hit to his jaw, to his nose, and to his temple. Fjord sees white and stumbles back. A light push to his sternum and he’s on the ground.</p><p>When his vision clears, Caleb is straddling his waist, his staff held to Fjord’s throat, a bead of sweat traveling down his temple. Fjord feels his ears twitch and a blush spread across his cheeks. He sees Caleb’s lips form words but doesn’t quite catch them.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>The staff snaps against the floor by his head and moves back to his throat before he can even <em>think </em>about moving.</p><p><em> Fuck, </em> he thinks. “Fuck,” Fjord says.</p><p>The staff presses down closer to his windpipe. “Why are you doing this? Trying to train me?”</p><p>“Because… you need to be prepared in case you don’t have any spells left, or in case  your components are taken, or—”</p><p>“Shut up.” Caleb says. Fjord shuts up. “You could have asked Beauregard or Yasha to train me. They would probably be better at it. Why are you doing this, Fjord?”</p><p>Fjord closes his eyes, trying to figure out if the knotted mess of feelings in his chest is anger, sadness, or resignation. “Because I have to protect you. And apparently I can’t. So you should be able to protect yourself.”</p><p>“Why do you have to protect me?” The staff starts pressing closer.</p><p>His voices comes out rougher, quieter, “Because I care about you.” And the staff presses closer.</p><p>“Everyone in The Mighty Nein does! Beauregard and Jester—”</p><p>“Not like I do!” The explosion — Fjord opening his eyes and fighting the hold he has on him for the first time since they got here —- makes Caleb go silent. “Not like I do, okay?!”</p><p>Caleb draws back the staff. “What is that supposed to mean?”</p><p>Fjord swallows down the ache in his throat, not sure if it’s because of the rough handling or because he’s trying to hold back tears. “Oh, Caleb, you know...” He turns his head, trying to hide, but there’s nowhere to go.</p><p>“I don’t, actually. Explain it to me.”</p><p>“It’s like— It’s like—” His eyes slip closed again. Caleb doesn’t stop him. “It’s like I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if something happened to you. It’s like you are the first person I always check up on after a battle. It’s like all I want is to see you smile. Like all I want is to <em>make </em>you smile. Like I would buy all the books in the world for you. Like I blush when you touch my hand. Like I can’t help grinning when you make a silly joke at my expense. Like—” He opens his eyes to stare up at Caleb’s pretty face, with its furrowed eyebrows, its strong nose, its wheat red eyelashes. “Like I <em> care </em> about you, you know?”</p><p>“Oh, Fjord…”</p><p>“It’s okay Caleb, you don’t have to— <em>hmph!</em>"</p><p>Caleb is kissing him. Caleb is kissing him? <em> Caleb is kissing him! </em></p><p>It’s a chaste, sweet kiss, Caleb’s chapped lips moving against his, half desperate and so passionate, making little noises in the back of his throat, only quieting down when Fjord manages to process what’s happening and kiss him back.</p><p>After a moment, Caleb pulls back, whispering, “Fjord, <em>schatz</em>, you could have just said so, you didn’t have to— <em>hmph!</em>”</p><p>Fjord draws him back in, a hand on his nape and an arm wrapped around his waist, licking into his mouth in a way that makes Caleb melt against him. The kiss is wet and messy, tongues sliding against each other, lips bitten, only stopping when they’re both breathless.</p><p>“So.” Fjord says to Caleb, still trying to stop panting. “Staffs, huh?”</p><p>“<em>Ja.</em>” He looks dazed and happy.</p><p>“Hot.”</p><p>Caleb snorts and leans in for more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>find me @bicalebwidogast on twitter!! feedback is welcome!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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